


The Inverted Glass Crown

by ChocolateCarnival



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alpha & Omega Setting, Alpha Harry, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Centuries old characters, Fallen Angel! Eggsy, M/M, Omega Eggsy, bondmates, elements of reincarnation, vampire! harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 06:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14587299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCarnival/pseuds/ChocolateCarnival
Summary: “Poisoned tears touching the pink flush of thy cheeks, porcelain lips
        parting once more with my ancient name…hold me close ‘fore I shatter
        these shackles binding mine soul to the bitter flow of reality.~ GalahadIt is the year 2015, where England's greatest betrayal has crippled the system of one its greatest protectors. Now, with Merlin and the reluctant Galahad travelling to the darkest depths of the Scottish Highlands to hopefully ensure the survival of the Four Realms (Humanity, Enochian, Demonic and Magician) secrets from thousands years past are about the come to light and shatter the reality they have been forced to live for several centuries.





	The Inverted Glass Crown

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Again my Honeys,
> 
> I haven't posted anything in a while as I've been extremely busy lately. Alas, I realized that I had this prologue sitting on my system for quite a while now. I have always adored fantasy stories and hope that I can entice your apatite to enjoy this story too. 
> 
> It's got quite a complex plot. So please enjoy the start of another piece:

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=rr857o)

**Prologue: The Frost Moon**

Allowing perfectly polished black Oxfords to tread an unknown path across the rocky ridges of the Black Cuillin Range on the Isle of Sky, the ever-composed Galahad breathed a quiet sigh of irritation as a mid-winter tempest danced frenetically across highly sensitized senses. The Immortal Knight was cursing his own choice in clothing for the first time in over four centuries, the swirling grey heavens only growing stormier by the second as the bald magician’s calculated footsteps led them further and further into the eye of the storm. 

  
“It’s so _cold_ , Merlin! Remind me again, why exactly are we transversing the wilds of Scotland? I thought you had been banned from setting foot here by your people centuries ago.” 

  
“Aye,” The normally taciturn Scotsman agreed, desperately trying to conceal the scowl of impatience curling down the corner of his lips as he deliberately cut out the immortal’s whining ever since they had stepped foot on this side of Albion. He had _told_ Galahad to dress warmly and keep his fur-lined winter coat handy, they were going to be going deeper into the Highlands than even he used to explore as a curios child several thousand years ago. 

  
But the stubborn vampire that Harry Hart was, he had merely waved aside his oldest friend’s advice and dressed in nothing but a bespoke suit and an autumn grey coat tumbling evocatively to the backs of his knees. His silver threaded chocolate brown locks was still perfectly coiffed, Kingsman glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose as he insisted on making the journey with shoulder holsters fully intact and outfitted with a full Kingsman weapons cache. 

  
As if a standard issue pistol, Rainmaker, Bremont or lighter grenade could injure an immortal even older than Merlin himself, he mused. 

  
It may be true that vampires didn’t feel cold the same way humans did, but it didn’t seem to penetrate Harry’s thick skull that they were trespassing on sacred ground here. This was the Winter King’s realm, his absolute control over ice, water, wind and frost was sharp enough to obliterate even the most hardly of demons. Never mind a cheeky, five-hundred-or-so-year-old vampire bent of causing his ancient magician friend all sorts of headaches. 

  
“I’m willing to accept whatever punishment comes,” Merlin continued solemnly a few seconds later. “The fate of the entire realm rests in three shattered pieces in my backpack.” His body still ached from the violent backlash of Excalibur’s reversing loyalty during Valentine’s brief but deadly technological transmission forty-eight hours passed. They could never have expected the once honourable 53 rd King Arthur to betray his immortal Knights to the insane whispers of an Environmental Megalomaniac. 

  
Chester King had even left his two most accomplished vampire and fae warriors to die a brutal death in a test at South Glade Mission Church. It was a good thing then, that Percival and Galahad had managed to destroy Valentine and his assistant with the ease of the honourable beings they were. Whilst, back in London, the young Lancelot and Merlin had brutally taken care of the one who had betrayed their Kingdom’s trust in the first place. 

  
“Why bring me along?” Harry Hart asked irritably. “Won’t I just create more friction? I wasn’t born in the Highlands, Merlin. I’m a vampire, seen as a weapon on this side of England. Neither am I human. I—.” 

  
“Don’t play dumb, Galahad.” An irate baritone huffed patronisingly. “You have been the most honourable and purest fighter seated at the Realm’s Roundtable for close to five centuries. If I had shown up here alone, I would have been nothing but ash the instant my feet touched this soil.” 

  
“The Winter King has always welcomed those cloaked in valour and pure intention, perhaps your presence will even ease the way for better negotiations. You have never broken your ridiculous code of chivalry once, have you?” 

  
_‘What negotiations?’_ Harry wanted to ask, humming deep in thought as he observed the Scot’s obvious discomfort with their current topic. He had been surprisingly skittish ever since the issue of Excalibur had come up, no doubt the sword having something to do with his mysterious past. The curious vampire was just about to cloak his question in a gentler civility to coax a straight answer from the shifty magician, when one of the most haunting aromas he had ever scented flowered unrepentantly across his senses. 

  
_Shit!_ What the hell was that? It was a perfect miasma of white snowdrops, cornflower, celestial cloud, freshly fallen snow and the underlining exotic lychee/burnt cocoa of an Omega’s righteous fury—. 

  
“What negotiations, Emrys?” A menacing tone hissed suddenly, the very air shuddering with a shockwave of power as a gracefully lithe frame leapt from the top of a peak into a deadly crouch right before them. “After all this time, you _dare_ show your face here with not only what you stole in several pieces but a vampire bearing the face of my dead beloved?” 

  
“Give me _one_ good reason not to cut you down where you stand.” 

  
The deity moved so fast that Harry could barely track his movement, shivering in electrified anticipation as the point of a beautifully crafted spear rested mere millimetres from impaling his heart. Rich, mahogany brown eyes flicked cautiously to the side, noting the similar two-meter spear already having drawn a drop of carmine from Merlin’s neck in warning. 

  
Before he could move to defend himself or protect his friend however, a flurry of snow spread in a vast circle from beneath their attackers black booted feet as the seemingly fifty-three-year-old looking vampire became pinned in place by a cautionary flick of mournful coral-reef green irises even stormier than the winter tempest swirling constantly above them. 

  
“Please don’t move, _Gràdh_ (1*).” The being said so softly, so apologetically that Harry, for the life of him; couldn’t find it in himself to disobey. A small circle of iridescent ice was forming across the grey fabric of his bespoke autumn coat, a tapered spear-tip resting tellingly against the silent beat of his dead heart as luscious pink lips pressed down into a displeased straight line. “I don’t wish to cause you harm.” 

  
The man was absolutely stunning in the dull monochrome afternoon light, short burnished copper locks parted in a lazy sweep to the side as blueish-green eyes pinned him place from beneath hooded black lashes – the very edges, decorated with delicate frost icicles, fanning attractively across subtly pink tinged cheeks. A form-fitting grey fur cloak was flowed regally from the lay of perfectly poised shoulders, the Winter King fluidly pushing himself to his feet as black leather trousers and calf-high combat boots accentuated the beautifully sculpted thickness of his thighs. 

  
His body was shifting flawlessly into an expertly executed combat stance, duel spears (decorated with fine filigree of Enochian design), colouring a shimmering frosted white at its master deliberate exhale and a barely noticeable but incandescent light blue halo shimmered into existence atop the Winter King’s head. 

  
Harry felt his breath freezing unexpectedly in the depths of his lungs, this was the first time he had ever come across the presence of any form of angel. The seemingly youthful man had yet to be touched by the greed of demons or corrupted by pointless human supplication. He was utterly _stunning_ , so—. 

  
“An explanation, Emrys. I’m still waiting.” The King demanded, an impossibly tense moment stretching painfully into infinity between them as the vampire became unsure of exactly what he should be feeling in the presence of such a beautiful and delicious smelling being. It was near impossible to ignore to sting of his fangs biting across the plush of bottom lip, a yearning desire to taste whatever the fierce being, for his scent could not place him as anything but an unbound Omega, was willing to offer him in return for becoming _his_. 

  
_“Tha e na sheasamh romhad an-dràsta.. (2*)_ ” Merlin interjected tonelessly, instantly drawing the Winter King’s full attention back towards him with a quietly hitching breath. _“Chan eil fios aige gun deach anam a thaghadh le Excalibur, tha e feumach air a 'chlaidheamh gus a chumhachdan a shònrachadh mar an Rìgh ùr.” (3*)_

  
“And you think Excalibur can just be fixed at the drop of a hat? Is that it?” The being spat infuriated. “You brought it back to me in pieces, howling in unimaginable pain without a care to learn just how the blade was forged and history attached to it in the first place?” 

  
“Yes.” 

  
“Such fuckin’ _arrogance_ , Draoidh (4*).” The violent lash of anger was a palpable sensation, a deadly grip tightening near imperceptibly on the shaft of long spear as the copper-haired angel swung a tapered tip away from Harry’s heart in a deliberate arc and conjured a booming roll of thunder to split the sky apart above them. “ _Fuck_ you, Merlin. I really should execute you where you stand.” 

  
“But you wont Diarmuid Au Duibhne,” Merlin interjected infuriatingly calm. _“Bha thu daonnan gaol air. (5*).”_ Harry was just about to interject his own irritation at being left out of the conversation so completely, shifting irritably on the balls of his feet as he reached discreetly towards his own weapon. Only, he was halted unexpectedly by a swift movement lowering the Angel’s arms with a heaving sigh before the tapered ends of twin spears came to rest in a thick blanket of snow spreading in a flurry towards the edge of the horizon. 

  
“I have told you never to call me by that name, Merlin. You are not welcome here.” 

  
“Your friend, however, is welcome to stay if he wishes. I will salvage what I can of the sword but I shall not fix it for you, never for you. Neither will I give it back willingly.” Holding out a hand expectantly to the bald wizard, the vampire was stunned speechless as Merlin merely handed over his prized leather satchel with a whispered “I never expected anything less”. 

  
Breath hitching painfully at the sorrowful smile gifted in his direction, it was Harry’s turn to be frozen in place as the youthful figure gracefully leapt three meters onto the same mountainous peak he had surprised them from before abruptly vanishing into the distance just as quickly as he had come. 

  
“Well, aren’t you going to follow him?” Merlin asked smugly a few agonizing seconds later, red tinged mahogany irises narrowing down in belated concern as the Knight stared up at the violently swirling storm breathing a new and incessant danger into the whitened horizon. 

  
“Would you mind explaining what just happened here, Merlin? I don’t understand—” 

  
“You should follow him, Galahad.” Was the magician’s only response. “It’s rude to turn down an invitation to the Winter King’s palace. I’m sure he’ll answer all the questions you may have, among others.” And with that, the bald Scot merely offered an amused smirk before turning back the way he had come. “I’ll be returning to London, Agent. I expect you back, with the Winter King and Excalibur by your side or just Excalibur a month from now.” Vanishing into nothing but a flurry of snow, the magician left the Immortal Galahad hissing with anger as he primly straightened his back and searched for the hauntingly sweet scent still rising so invitingly upon the air. 

  
There was nothing much to do, but follow, he knew. He would be stranded here otherwise.  
_Fuck Merlin, the self-righteous ass!_ Harry thought to himself venomously. This was the _last_ time he was coming to Scotland, especially with the foul Scot in tow. This time was just as distressing as his last visit, where he and Percival had left a bloodstained battlefield spread across the planes of the Highlands for miles and miles on end. He couldn’t even remember the reason for that battle anymore, it had all just been a blur of bloodlust, loss, pain and eventually the sweet rush of victory. 

  
Biting back an irate sigh because gentleman simply did _not_ sigh, Galahad turned his body in the direction of the angel’ scent as he followed the lingering aroma still calling out so desperately to the deepest recesses of his lost soul. 

  
If nothing else, vampires at least had enough speed and agility to chase down even the wiliest of prey…not that the Winter King was anything of the sort, mind. Not with the insurmountable skill and surprising dominance he had already shown in a mere few minutes. 

* * * * 

It didn’t take long for Harry to spot the lone figure walking ahead at a leisure pace, a flurry of snowflakes settling evocatively on the downy tips of burnished copper blonde locks as the Winter King waited patiently for the vampire to fall quietly in step beside him. Yet, before the darker being could part his lips to speak, he was startled by the soft fur cloak held generously in his direction. There was a delicate flush of pink tinting the angel’s pale cheeks, an imploring twist of plush lips steeling themselves in a thin line for Harry’s rejection of his peace offer. 

“Take it, _Gràdh_ _._ You’ll need it.” He beseeched quietly, breathing a quiet sigh of relief as elegant fingertips curled themselves around the sinfully soft pelt before amusedly satisfied coral-reef green irises abruptly stalled the quiet gratitude the vampire was about to whisper in return. Gratefully situating the new source of heat around the fine tremor of his shoulders, a quiet sigh of relief spilled from between partially parted lips as a temperate heat instantly flooded the icy depths of his veins. 

  
It felt _so_ good, the languid immortal catching himself with an embarrassed flush before he could snuggle himself deeper into the sweetly scented fur and bring the collar up his nose to take in more of its heavenly aroma. Christ, the way it smelled—. 

  
“It’s only a little farther,” The angel continued with a frown of concern, clearly having misinterpreted the vampire’s shudder of sheer ecstasy with one of intense cold instead. Harry himself, said nothing to correct the King’s assumptions. He was a little too mortified by his own response. In all his five-hundred-and-fifty-eight years he had never yet become so drunk on a single being’s scent before. It was driving him a little mad inside, twisting up his inhibitions as he violently forced down the openly blossoming desire to sink his fangs deeply into vulnerable flesh for a carnal taste. 

  
“It’s Galahad,” He suddenly interjected with distraction, hoping not to make any more of a fool of himself. “Or Harry, if you prefer.” 

  
“Harry, then.” Pale pink lips quirked upwards in the tiniest of smiles, instantly drawing mahogany brown irises towards the inexplicably shy glow swirling within sea-green orbs as the knight returned the gesture with a slightly more open confidence. “And you? What do I call you if you do not wish to be known by Diarmuid?” There was a brief but noticeable misstep in the being’s gait at the echoing name, sharp brown eyes never once missing the flash of intense pain pinching beautiful features into a deep frown before it smoothed out into alarming impassiveness. 

  
“Eggsy,” The being said after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. “Diarmuid Au Duibhne was the human name given to me when I was stripped of my powers as a punishment from the gods. My Alpha’s mate mark,” A stray finger rose to trace the single black beauty spot seared into the centre of the angel’s throat Harry seemed to have callously dismissed missed before. “Was erased by Mabon. He laid a curse upon the single spot he could not conceal, all to lead unmated Omegas astray with my beauty knowing I could never feel the happiness of love or completion ever again.” 

  
Harry stumbled to an abrupt halt, his mind reeling internally at the information he had just been granted as he felt an immense amount of sadness well up deep within his soul. That was inordinately cruel, even for the gods. He wasn’t even paying attention to the magnificent towering ice and jagged rock citadel that swam into focus several meters ahead of them, his full attention was completely enraptured by the slightly shorter frame coming to a courteous halt beside him. 

  
“Why? I don’t understand—.” 

  
“Because I was an archangel of the Light Realm, once.” Eggsy noted nonchalantly. “My soulmate was known as the King of Dark Realm at the time. You’ll know him better by his human moniker, I suppose. Satan? Lucifer perhaps? Regardless, the gods, both on the earthly realm and celestial plane, refused to accept such a taboo union in the midst of a ferocious war. So, on the eve of our consummation, they killed my Beloved with my own spear right before my very eyes and bound my powers to what I am now.” 

  
“A third-human, a third-angel and a third-deity. Even I’m not sure exactly what I am, only that I am cursed with eternal life.” 

  
_“Christ_ , that’s—.” 

  
“Ruthless, yes?” The sardonic smirk curling up the corner of petal pink lips, sent a lance of pain radiating cruelly down the length of the vampire’s painfully straightened spine. “It was war, _Gràdh_. Still is, as you well know. But that does not mean I do not work to obtain my own retribution, or that I let them get away with it for long. There is a reason why I am known as the Winter King.” 

  
“Why do you think Merlin is so afraid to stay more than a few seconds in my presence?” Before Harry could make a single guess as to the answer, a violent crack of ice reverberated deafeningly through the air as a vast, three-meter, rime door split apart at a mere wave of the King’s hand. Steady black combat boots never once wavered in their path through a complex citadel labyrinth, leading Harry through one of the most stunningly harsh but beautiful natural interiors he had ever seen. 

  
He was uncharacteristically affected by the painful story, staying mostly silent through his inordinate curiosity in case he could offend his host as he wondered just how Eggsy had eventually ended up on this forgotten maintain range so far away from human civilization and in a castle that had clearly been constructed by the icy rumble of his power. 

  
But then again, it was fairly obvious. The angel’s agony and unbendable will would have kept him stubbornly isolated from everything else, a flicker of valiant gentleness outlining the softness of his eyes Harry had only seen flare to life with whatever it was that Merlin had said to Eggsy in Gaelic. It was quite a beautiful look on him, he thought. 

  
Now only if he could find a way to intensity its fleeting presence—. 

  
“Would you like something to drink, Harry?” Startling slightly at the sound of a soothing tenor calling out slightly ahead of him, the darker being found himself hovering in the entranceway of a cosy living room with vaulted ice ceilings, dark brown leather armchairs decorated in several soft fur pelts and a roaring fire dancing indolently in the marble hearth. 

  
It was just like any other ancient English castle Harry had visited before, warmed by the open fire as curious brown irises observed long fingers settling twin spears against the side of a clearly favoured armchair and shapely legs eventually folded the angel delicately into the seat. There was an iced glass of whisky already situated on the coffee table before them, swirling frosted patterns drawn into the smooth crystal at a touch of his host’s fingertips as the Winter King slid the glass in his direction the moment his guest settled himself gratefully into the graciously offered seat. 

  
The Kingsman couldn’t contain his surprise at the rich scent flooding his senses, bringing the tumbler up to his nose to breathe in its woody sweetness. Burning an invigorating warmth down the back of his throat as he sipped at the offering with a satisfied smile, Harry Hart no longer felt the gnawing cold that had settled into his bones earlier. He was eagerly drinking in the tender expression aimed in his direction, watching faintly trembling fingertips spill the contents of Merlin’s bag onto a polished wooden surface. 

  
“What have they done to you, darling.” The sweet voice whispered mournfully, the subtle brightness in coral-reef green irises dulling considerably as concerned pads tenderly traced the ragged breaks having shattered across the blade. There was a hitching breath sticking painfully in the back of the King’s throat, the vampire only able to watch in silence as a single teardrop transversed a painfully flushed cheek before transforming into a single snowflake landing atop scarred metal. 

  
And then… 

  
And then the screaming began... 

* * * * 

1* - _Gràdh_ \- Beloved 

2* - _Tha e na sheasamh romhad an-dràsta._ – He stands before you right now. 

3* - _Chan eil fios aige gun deach anam a thaghadh le Excalibur, tha e feumach air a 'chlaidheamh gus a chumhachdan a shònrachadh mar an Rìgh ùr._ \- He does not know that his soul was born of Excalibur, he needs the sword to unlock his powers as the new King. 

4* - _Draoidh_ – Wizard 

5* - _Bha thu daonnan gaol air_ \- You'll always love him.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any confusion in the Gealic that Merlin spoke to Eggsy but I do hope the translations made more sense to you. I'll be answering any questions or comments you may have, so please don't be afraid to ask. :) I'll reply as soon as I can. 
> 
> May I implore my honeys to please leave a small review to let me know what you thought about it? I thank you eternally for reading, it means the world to me. 
> 
> Chocolate Carnival


End file.
